


Henry Potter

by TheDogFood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Character Development, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Good and Evil, Hogwarts, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Like really really slow, Magic, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, Plot Twists, Plothole Fill, Plotty, Rewrite, Slow Build, Wizarding World, Worldbuilding, eventual politics, much awkwardness, semi canon compliant?, you'll probably get confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDogFood/pseuds/TheDogFood
Summary: Emma Swan finds herself in the Wizarding World armed solely with the information from her favorite books as a child and the fairy tales Henry told her.  Oh, and she has to cope with being a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Everyone she knows has seemingly slipped into some role in the novel, and none of them can remember who she is.  Can she finally reunite her family, or is there a dark force looming over them all?Takes place after S1, so some canon from later seasons might not happen.  Eventually will be ships.  In the meantime, indulge in tons of plot with me :) Enjoy!





	1. Another World

The flatline was unmistakably loud, but in Emma’s mind it created nothing but a void. Henry’s body had turned a shade translucent blue. The wires and tubes that covered it seemed to be the only things in the hospital room that kept moving as they slowly pulsed and beeped. To her right, she heard Regina gasp and clutch her mouth. Gradually, she edged her way forward.

“No. . .” she whispered.

His face seemed even more placid up close. Henry’s eyes were closed, and his jaw looked limp. He wasn’t breathing. Emma choked as the tears started streaming down her face. She lifted her fingers to his face and, trembling, brushed his bangs out of his eyes. He didn’t react.

“I love you, Henry.”

She bent down slowly and kissed his forehead. For a moment, there was nothing but the loud beeps and Regina’s sobs.

Then miraculously, a force surged forth from the spot where they touched and the room filled with a golden light. Henry inhaled deeply and opened his eyes.

“I love you too.”

As a surge of relief overcame her, and Emma grabbed her son and held him tightly. His face gained more and more color as he hugged her.

“You saved me,” he whispered into her ears.

“You did it,” said Regina, sounding completely astonished.

The pair looked around at her. All of them looked as though a gust of wind had hit them. It became clear rather quickly that all the eyes in the room were on her. The nurses, in unison, took a step back and glared at her with contempt. 

“Henry, what’s going on?” Emma asked, as one of the women quickly slipped out of the room.

“No,” Regina muttered, and her eyebrows knit together as she grew more panicked.

“The curse. . . I think you broke it,” Henry said proudly.

“That was True Love’s kiss,” said Mother Superior. She spun around to face Regina, “If I were you, Your Majesty, I’d find a place to hide,”

 

Regina briskly stepped forward and pressed her hands on Henry’s. Her eyes were watering and her mascara was starting to smear.

“Henry. . . No matter what you think, no matter what anyone tells you, I do love you,” she whispered as a tiny smile emerged on her face. Glancing around, she straightened up, and hurried quickly from the room.

“Here,” said Dr. Whale, breaking the silence. “Let’s get that stuff off of you, alright?”

He began to unplug some of the wires, and though Henry flinched occasionally, his eyes remained glued on his mother. Some of the nurses pulled their phones out of their aprons and began crying to whomever it was on the line. Others were cohorting in a quarter of the room, with livid expressions on the faces. When Dr. Whale finished, he absent-mindedly excused himself and left for his office.

“Henry, what’s going on here?” Emma asked. “If the curse is broken, why didn’t they go back?

“I. . . I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Suddenly, a nurse next to them dropped a tray carrying pills. Emma stooped down to help her out. When she looked up, however, she saw nothing but abject horror in the woman’s eyes. Following her gaze, Emma looked up towards the window. Outside, a huge purple cloud was creeping down from the forest. It crackled like thunder and oozed like sludge. 

“What is that?” said Emma, panic starting to arise again in her throat. 

She reached around her to grip Henry’s hand.

“Something ba--” 

The nurse’s shriek cut him off. She had clambered onto Henry’s bedside table and pointed and the ground. A thick, black substance, different than the fog outside, had seeped up from the cracks in the tiles. It looked like oil, but bubbled slighted. Following the nurse’s example, Emma lept onto Henry’s bed. 

“What the hell? Is this magic? What--” Emma yelled.

“Mom, calm down. It’s just a curse,” Henry answered.

“Just a-- _Just_ a curse?!” 

The nurse next to them yelped. Her foot had touched the black oil, and she seemed unable to pull it out. Tears were starting to stream down her face. Emma reached out her hand:

“Henry, what is this stuff?”

“Uh. . . not. . . just a curse,”

Shit. Emma thought, How the hell am I supposed to deal with this? This is not what all new mothers have to go through. . .Crap. Her foot had slipped off of the bed. The nurse was not mistaken, it was virtually impossible to yank it out. Pausing, she took a deep breath.

“It’s gonna be alright, Henry,” she said, not quite believing herself. “You, nurse, what’s your name?”

“Claire. . . Claire Douglass,” she whispered in a British accent.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Claire. We’re gonna find a way out of this. My parents. . .” It took Emma a moment to realize what the curse meant. If everything Henry had said was true, then, “My parents are Snow White and Prince Charming. They always find a way out of things.”

She whimpered in response. Emma felt the oil rize from the group. It was now above her ankle. It sounded as though the whole hospital was affected. The screams of the nurses and patients echoed throughout the previously calm building. She wrapped her arms around Henry as the ooze creeped up her leg.”

“You can stop crying, Mom. You’re the Savior. You have the power of True Love. You can do anything.”

Emma thought for a second. She had broken the curse, so could she stop one before it happened? She screwed up her face and concentrated. For a second, one glorious second, it felt like the rize of the oil stopped. But it ended, and the substance crept past her knee. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she gasped, realizing she had been holding her breath. “I’m so sorry, Henry, Claire.”

The ooze was past the bed.

“Mom, it’s okay. We’ll be fine. I know it.”

The purple cloud shattered the window and filled the room.

“You don’t understand! This is the real world-- things aren’t just fine!”

The oil was past her waist.

“I love you, Mom.”

The cloud was suffocating.

“I--, I--”

She could feel the sludge on her chin.

“I love you too.”

\---

The pillowcase was soft, but not suffocating. Somehow, it smelled her seat in the yellow bug, like the hint of pumpkin spice latte that lingered no matter how much she washed it. There was a grandfather clock that was ticking somewhere far away. She rolled over and pulled the sheets over her ears.

Emma bolted upright with a gasp. _Henry!_

“You’re awake,” a voice said. “How do you feel?”

“Uh. . . Fine? I think?”

A nurse was bustling about her, her face buried behind a large clipboard. She pulled something long and wooden from her white coat, which reached the floor like robes.

“Hmm, lets see,” she said, pointing the stick at Emma, “Your temperature is normal, your blood pressure is one twenty over eighty, and you’ve got a bpm that’s hovering just over a hundred.”

“You could tell all that from a stick? Anyways have you seen a kid named Henry anywhere?”

“ _Wand_ , sweetheart, _wand_. And no, there’s nobody in any ward with your friend’s name,” she pulled her head out from behind the clipboard. “How about we stick to the sheet, right? What’s your name?”

“Claire!” Emma said with a gasp. “Claire Douglass, how is it that--”

The nurse smiled sympathetically and pointed at the silver pin on her robes that read ‘Claire’.

“No, sweetheart,” she said slowly, “That’s my name. And not Douglass. My name is Claire Strout.”

_Okay. . . This is interesting. . ._ Clearly the curse had hit, but where was she? Looking around the room, it clearly wasn’t the hospital in Storybrooke. The ceiling was much higher, and, instead of a door, there was a tall archway with an ornate moulding. If it were not for the nurse in front of her, she wouldn’t have even known she was in a medical facility as there weren’t any tubes or an IV in sight. There were large curtains that let in a warm light. On the bedside table, a long candle gave off a pleasant glow. Emma pulled her legs out of the covers.

The nurse looked pointedly at her.

“Oh! Emma Swan.”

“Wonderful. Do you know your parents’ names?”

Feeling slightly belittled by her babying tone, Emma responded.

“Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan.”

It even sounded weird on her tongue. She questioned it. _Were those even their real names? Surely nobody called their child Charming or Snow. Did people in the enchanted forest have last names? Would David. . . Dad change his name to be different from Kathryn? Or would she?_ Emma’s mind filled with questions, new ones pelting her brain each second like bullets.

“Hmm, they’re not on the record. Are you Muggleborn?”

_Record?_ , she thought, _what record?_ And then the word hit her.

_Muggle._

Memories of a kid and staying up past midnight and using a flashlight to read under the covers to finish each chapter overtook the questions. Memories from when she still believed that she would find a home and a family who loved her. Memories from before she realized the whole system fucked and she couldn’t do a damn thing--

She leapt out bed. Sprinting towards the nurse, she grabbed the clipboard. Above all the information about her, she read, in tiny bold print: **St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**. Her head was spinning. _How is this even possible?!?_ Her eyes went to the next line and saw _Name: Emma Swan Age: 12_.

The clipboard clattered to the ground. Emma gaped at her body. The change was so prominent, she cursed herself for not noticing sooner. She was definitely much shorter. Her arms were much lankier. It was like that weird point in her childhood where all of her limbs had decided to grow at rates, leaving her looking completely lopsided. She was definitely pudgier, as she didn’t have the job of a bail bondsman at this age. Her hair went down only a little past her shoulders, and clearly hadn’t been brushed in a while. And though her hospital gown didn’t reveal much, she could tell that her chest was definitely lacking.

“Emma? Emma?” Claire’s voice seemed to echo from far off.

Breathing quickly, she whispered, “Oh shit,” and slumped onto the covers.


	2. Ginger Sidekick

Emma woke up in roughly the same position she went to sleep in. The light from the window had turned a golden amber as sunset approached. She sat up, slowly rubbing her neck in a spot that she must have slept on wrong. Claire was still bustling around, and beamed at her when she saw her moving.

“Hello Emma! Are you feeling any better?”

“You already asked that, and yes, of course I’m fine.”

“Oh, I’d say it’s a miracle you made such a splendid recovery. You know, it’s no small feat to survive an unknown curse. We at St. Mungo’s are trained to deal with every magical malady under the sun, from dragon pox to basilisk venom, so you must be very proud of yourself for being so strong enough to beat it on your own.”

“Wait. . . so it wasn’t you who woke me up? How long have I been asleep for?!”

“Only a few months sweetheart! There’s nothing to panic about. Compared to other cases, you’ve only been in a coma for the time it takes for a troll to lose its temper. Which is no time at all.”

“So you don’t know where Henry or my parents are?”

Claire put on a pitying smile. Emma could tell it was well-intentioned, but she didn’t need any sort of affection right now. She needed to punch a wall. 

“About your parents, where do you think they live?”

“Storybrooke, Maine, The United States, Earth, Reality”

Claire giggled. Emma wondered for a second why, in her head, she sounded actually like a stupid teenager again.

“Alright. I’ll put in a request for the Magical Congress of the United States of America. They shouldn’t take too long to respond”

She plopped down on the bed and started scribbling on the notepad.

“Where have you been receiving your magical training?”

“Uh. . .nowhere. I don’t have any magical training.”

The nurse looked at her with slight concern and wrote furiously on the sheet.

“Do you know where you were before you came here?”

“Just Storybrooke.”

“How about what happened to you?”

“A curse? Or something worse.”

“And do you remember what my name is?

“Claire Strout,” grumbled Emma. “I’m not stupid.”

“Of course you’re not, dear.” she responded, and it actually seemed genuine. “I’m sorry, but this is all just protocol. This process is a long and tenuous one. If it were me, I’d send you right on your way without all this protocol.”

“My ‘way’?”

“Well we can’t just keep you here in the hospital until the we receive word back from the Congress or term starts, can we?”

Emma thought on it. As truly bizarre as it was to be a child again, she supposed that, like before, she just had to bend the system in the right ways to get what she wanted. No matter what, she knew she was going to see Henry again. Even if she had to pretend she was a child or a wizard.

“Oh, and I forgot to ask. Do you know where your wand is?”

“I uh. . . don’t have one.” she finished lamely.

“Well that’s something that we can easily fix! You can go by to Ollivander's tomorrow, and also meet the family that’s decided to take you in. Have a good night.”

She exited the room, waving her wand at the candle and saying “Reducio.” It sputtered out, and Emma was cloaked in darkness. 

_There’s something I should be able to do right? I broke the last curse, now all I have to do is figure out how to break this one._

Something about that seemed impossible. The only reason she had been able to break that curse was because Henry was there. She had doubted every single thing he said, but his unwavering faith in her had helped her believe. Emma rolled over in her covers.

_I’ll do it. I can save them again._

Another, more childish, part of her was giddy with joy. She couldn’t recall how many times as a kid that she had dreamed of receiving a letter from Hogwarts that would whisk her away from the system.

_I’ll learn how to do magic._

\---

Claire was shaking her awake. Emma begrudgingly opened her eyes to see the nurse’s beaming smile. She handed her a small pouch containing heavy coins. She explained that, since she had no parents in the system, she was entitled to a monthly allowance by the ministry. She put extra caution into clarifying it was only temporary, as they would find her real parents soon enough.

Thus she found herself in the middle of diagon alley, armed with a sack of gold and a curiosity for everything that came into her sight. As she walked down the main road, she noted how most things weren’t different from how she imagined them in the book. All of the major signs stood out to her _Eeylops Owl Emporium, Florian and Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin’s_. She made a quick note to visit the latter once she had gotten her wand-- she was wearing one of the spare robes from St. Mungo’s and it kept causing her to trip and get stuck. Eventually, though, Emma found herself facing the slightly ominous sign that read Ollivanders. Gulping, she stepped through the creaky doorway.

Wands towered high above her, each in its own long box. She wondered slightly how they managed to no fall over, but realized that, obviously, some sort of magic was at play. She stepped up to the desk and rang a bell on it. Out of the darkness zipped a tape measure. It spun around her, measuring every possible distance there was to check. 

“Uh. . . Mr. Ollivander?”

Following the tape measurer, a man teetered out of an aisle of boxes. He was wearing emerald robes and large glassy spectacles. He was balding and had large brown eyes. Emma blinked. It was unmistakable.

_Geppetto?_

The man, however, didn’t seem to recognize her. Geppetto was now bustling around, muttering something to himself as he pulled various boxes from the shelves. He must have reached something satisfactory, as he excavated a long, mahogany box from the stack. He returned to Emma with it. 

“Wand hand?” he asked.

“Uh. . . I’m right-handed.”

“This is twelve and a quarter inches, unicorn tail hair core, hazel. Slightly pliant. It’s a good and faithful wand. Generally obedient as a rule of thumb. You’ll find that you’ll be able to produce consistent, if not as powerful magic. Good for charms and transfiguration.”

She took in in her hand. She didn’t believe anything would happen. Emma knew that she had magic; Henry had convinced her of that. But part of her had hoped, prayed that something-- something special would happen. She was the Saviour. She was special. She knew she was different.

Golden sparks twinkled out of the wand’s tip.

“Wonderful! I thought we would be here all day. That’ll be seven galleons.”

“So. . .umm. . . Nothing unusual? Nothing. . . peculiar?”

“Well all wands are unique, of course. I personally remember the unicorn I took this core from. The stallion must have been at least sixteen hands tall, and nearly planted his hoof in my back before I got out of the way.”

In a blur, Emma scooped the gold out of her purse and thanked Geppetto (or Ollivander) for the wand. She wandered back out into Diagon Alley. Feeling more tired than she ought to have been, she plopped herself down on a green bench near the road. The flow of witches and wizards looked like it had slowed. Most of them were probably out to lunch with their families. Emma fingered her new wand absentmindedly.

It was bizarre being alone again. Despite the fact that she had spent most of her life either alone in some foster house or in the yellow bug, she had managed to wedge herself into Storybrooke like she was meant to be there. Without realizing it, being with Henry had let her find _home_.

“You know you shouldn’t wave your wand without saying anything? You can cast a spell without realizing it.”

A girl of about her age was walking towards her. She had large emerald eyes, and bright red hair. Not ginger, but flaming scarlet. It was wrapped in some fancy braid that ran down her back. 

“I’m Ariel. Ariel Weasley,” she said quickly. It was clear that she was chewing some sort of gum that was changing shades every few seconds.

“Emma Swan,” she responded.

“Hey, do you want to go over to Madam Malkin’s? My mom gave some Knuts to get my robes adjusted.”

“Sure.”

They trooped off together, in the direction of the stall. Above the large engraved sign, there were a giant pair of scissors that were slowly opening and closing. They entered. The building had an entirely different ambience than Ollivanders. Every corner was brightly lit, and there were sparkly robes with different hems on invisible mannequins by the large paneled windows next to the front door. They would occasionally flatten their front and strike a new pose. Madam Malkin herself was a rather tall witch, with a big pointed hat topped with a elegant peacock feather.

Ariel’s arrival also revealed something to Emma. Geppetto’s existence had hinted at it, but this surely confirmed it.

_Everyone is here, but they have different names, and they don’t remember me or Storybrooke. It’s like they’ve just slipped into the roles of the book. Ariel must be Ginny, she seems around the right age. But then who am I? And, more importantly, who is Henry?_

Ariel was talking loudly about Quidditch and House Cups. She was certain that she would end up in Gryffindor, like all of her brothers (no surprise there). Emma frankly didn’t care what house she was in. She recalled taking the quiz a couple times and getting a different house each time. Apparently, a few months ago, Canada had one the Quidditch World Cup. This surprised Emma.

“What about Ireland and Bulgaria?” she asked.

“Well Bulgaria got out in the semifinals, you know. But I’ve heard they have an up and coming player who could really transform the team.” she said “Krum, I think. Personally, I hope Ireland wins in ‘94. Mum’s got some relatives who lives there. It’d be like betraying the family if I didn’t support them.”

_94 huh? That must mean this is 1991. Things just keep getting weirder. If she had simply gone back in time, she would’ve been only six years old. Something different must’ve been at play._

“So Emma, who do you support? Oh and you look like a first year-- what do you want for your house?”

_Ah. This brings back memories._ Back when she was moving all around the country, shunted from place to place, she always had to explain to the other kids why her situation was so abnormal. What was she supposed to say back then? “Well, my family abandoned me when I was a newborn, and since then, no one has really cared about me. I probably won’t even be at your school for more than two months, that is when this family gets too sick of me. _This won’t be too different._

“I’ve actually, uh, never really heard anything about Hogwarts. I’ve been sick at St. Mungo’s since--” Emma broke off.

Ariel was positively beaming.

“I just knew it!!!” Ariel said giddily. “Oh I just had a feeling it was you. You’ll be staying with us, the Weasleys, at the Burrow. Mum said you had some magical injury. This is just wonderful; I can’t tell you how difficult it is to deal with five brothers all the time. I mean, of course I love them and all, but, jeez, sometimes I need a break.”

Feeling slightly awkward at apparently finding a new bff out of nowhere, Emma answered.

“Five brothers?”

“Yeah. Well most of them have already graduated. The twins and Mr. Perfect Prefect,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly, “they’re still at Hogwarts. It kinda sucks, you know? They’re all years older than I am. You’re only a couple years older than me, right? Oh my god, this is gonna be so much fun!”

Ariel scurried of the stool (Madam Malkin snorted indignantly at her lack of respect) and squeezed Emma tightly. Her brain was slow catching up to the information she was being told. If she only had five brothers, and she was only a few years older than Ariel then --

_I’m the sidekick in my own story. I’m the forgettable, ginger, damn sidekick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of all the characters in Harry Potter, I think Ginny has always deserved the most fleshing out. I mean, really, she becomes such a key character in the later books, but we hardly hear her speak in the earlier ones. She gets with Harry for Merlin's sake! Anyways, on the topic of romance, it case it wasn't clear, I don't plan on having ships happen based on who gets with who in the books. That'll save us from some weird shtuff down the road :P
> 
> Also please leave comments, I'd love to know what you think.


	3. The Burrow

Emma and Ariel spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around Diagon Alley. They fetched some ice creams from Florian and Fortescue’s (though Ariel didn’t outright say, it was clear she was out of allowance, so Emma bought them both). Ariel seemed enthusiastic about looking around for pets, but Emma felt she knew better. It’s best to not get something that relies solely on you when you’re not sure if you take take care of yourself. Well, Henry had become the exception to that.

Eventually, they wandered to the doors of the Leaky Cauldron. They had taken so long examining trinkets in the windows that night had fallen. Ariel was especially interested in the Nimbus 2000. Apparently, she had dreamed of getting onto the Gryffindor Quidditch Team since she was a child. She spent a solid ten minutes emphasizing the importance of the quick brake system.

“Bee! Come here!” a motherly voice called. “And who is that with you?”

Emma kept walking, but Ariel turned around. _How many names does this girl have?_

“Omg mum! You don’t have to always use that nickname!” Ariel shouted back.

Emma looked at her in confusion. She couldn’t see anyway to derive ‘Bee’ from ‘Ariel’. The woman caught up to her. It was Granny. Or well, Mrs. Weasley. She looked virtually the same, if not for the fact that her silver hair was a shade of ginger.

“It’s adorable,” she faced Emma. “It stands for Bashful. It’s our little family tradition-- the adjective thing. And well as you can see, she’s the shyest person you’ll meet.”

Emma assumed she must have been being sarcastic, as she certainly had not seen any shy behavior from Ariel. She reminded her of those oblivious, pretty girls from high school. Kind-hearted, but somewhat out of touch.

_Wait a minute, what does this mean for the Bashful in StoryBrooke? And the other dwarves? What happened to Leroy and. . . and._ Emma realized suddenly that she’d never actually learned all of their names. She had simply assumed the six short men that followed him were the other dwarves. _Were there even six of them?_

“Anyways dear, you must be Emma. Have you ever travelled using the Floo network before?”

“You just throw it in the fire and yell where you want to go right?” she responded.

That was something she had remembered well from the books. Back when she was in her shoplifting days, it would’ve been a lifesaver to chuck the stuff into a fire and get away scott free. 

“Look at that! And they said you were Muggleborn. How about we hurry along then? I’ve got a stew in the oven. Just say ‘The Burrow’.”

They meandered along the road until they reached the Leaky Cauldron. It was mostly as she had imagined, except for the fact it was all so real. The hags that passed her on the way in certainly didn’t look like prosthetics. Feeling slightly skeptical, she scooped some powder out of the quilt sack that Mrs. Weasley offered her. Ariel, or Bee, nodded encouragingly. She sprinkled it into the flamed, which turned bright green. She stepped in. Making sure not to swallow any soot and pinching her eyes shut, she stated clearly:

“The Burrow.”

It wasn’t like anything she could have imagined. It was almost as though the pulse from breaking the curse was buffeting her round and round in circles. Emma also felt the licks of the flames on her cheeks. She hugged in her limbs even tighter. She could here snippets of conversation from the fireplaces as she sped past.

“--just a moment dear--”

“--is that the stov--”

“--aybe that’s wha--”

“--get down Fang--”

That last voice made her breath stop and her eyes flash open. Without realizing it, she threw out her arms and legs and-- BLAM.

_Mom!_

She thought about this for only a second before she realized that her wrist was likely broken. Emma cursed under her breath. 

“My goodness! Are you alright sweetheart?”

Emma looked up. The voice was absolutely unmistakably Mary Margaret's. She looked, however, entirely different. Her hair was not in a short pixie cut; it was instead long and curlier. A few gray hairs streaked through it. She was wearing some animal fur around her neck. Her paints were made of tight leather. It reminded Emma of the pictures of Snow White she had seen in Henry’s book. 

“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to come through your fire, it’s just this is my first time ever using Floo Powder so--”  
Her eyes drifted away from her mother to the room they were in.

“Um, where are we?”

“My hut,” she responded sweetly. “I am Snow White Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Most just call me Hagrid though.”

Now this was quite bizarre. Emma couldn’t think of anyone besides her mother who was least like the half-giant from the books. _Well sure, they’re both caring towards animals, and they were accused of crimes they didn’t commit. And they both are the complete opposite of the stereotypes about them, be that their giant genetics or royal blood._ Snow (or Hagrid) was now leaning down by the large dalmation, scratching the skin behind his ears. Her blue eyes were filled with affection. 

__

Snow looked up. 

“There’s some extra floo powder on the mantle,” she said. “You should probably get back to your family. I’ve sorry, but I’ve got an important job to do.” 

Out of a satchel that slung from her shoulder, she pulled a thick envelope. 

“Dumbledore’s got a job for me to do personally. Great man, Dumbledore. . .” 

_Oh. This must mean she’s going to see Harry right? Man that part on the hut on the rock scared me as a kid._

Snow looked at her expectantly. This constant flood of information was really making her brain feel waterlogged. Emma stood up and grabbed a fistful from a flowerpot. She had been expecting, for just a moment, that Snow was going to greet her tearfully, and welcome her home. It was not the case however, and she waved Emma off into the fire with a simple wave.

\---

“Mum! Mum, she’s back!” Bee was yelling.

“Oh thank goodness!” Mrs. Weasley yelled back. The sounds of her hurried footsteps filled the room. She burst in. “Emma! I was so, so worried. I can’t believe I was so careless.” 

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley,” Emma assured her. “Really, I’m sorry. I just thought I saw my mom at one of the grates. It wasn’t her though.” 

Mrs. Weasley wrapped her in a tight hug. 

“She don’t look fine, Sleepy.” 

“She don’t sound fine neither, Sneezy.” 

The twins had entered the room. They were shorter than Emma had expected, and had a stockier build. They both had an undeniable mischievous glint in their eyes. Suddenly, Emma flinched. She had forgotten her wrist was still broken. She grimaced through the pain. 

“You don’t seem happy.” Sneezy clarified for emphasis. 

“Well there we go. Anything you need, Happy?” Sleepy finished. 

“Happy? I generally just ossicalate between different stages annoyance and frustration.” 

“Then you’re just like Bashful here.” 

Ariel flipped her hair over her shoulder and exited the room, grumbling. As she went, a lanky boy of around fourteen entered. He went over to Emma and clasped her hand. 

“Ah, you must be Emma. It’s really is a pleasure to meet you. There’s an empty room right below the attic, well it’s by the ghoul, but it’s not too loud. And if you have any questions about Hogwarts, feel free to ask me. In case you haven’t heard, I’m a prefect and--” 

“Oh shut it, Doc,” Sneezy said. “She just had her wrist broken. I doubt she wants her brain melted too.” 

Mrs. Weasley fished her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at Emma’s hand. She muttered something under her breath. The sharp pain in Emma’s wrist subsided, being replaced by a dull throb. 

“You’re lucky it was only fractured, not broken,” she stated. “If not we’d have to find that old bottle of Skelegrow. Now, let’s eat dinner, shall we?”

\--- 

Dinner with the Weasleys was better than Emma could have possibly imagined. Unlike in the books, where every meal was focused around Harry’s arrival, there was a sense of family and peace that she still wasn’t use to. Mrs. Weasley had made a giant stew in a pot that didn’t seem to have a bottom. That was for good reason, since everyone seemed to have an unquenchable appetite. 

Halfway through the meal, a large clock near the doorway made a loud tock. Mrs. Weasley leapt to her feet to help her husband through the door. He was rather tall and almost bald, save a spot of ginger hair. He looked vaguely familiar; Emma thought she might have seen him working the checkout at the grocery store in Storybrooke. He looked positively exhausted. The moment he got in, he slumped into the chair at the head of the table. Emma looked over at the clock. The hand labeled ‘William’ had shifted to ‘Home’.  
“--and this is Emma,” Mrs. Weasley continued from the entryway. “She’ll be staying with us until they American magical government locate her parents,” she sat down next to her husband. “How was your day at work, dear?” 

Mr. Weasley exhaled deeply. 

“Akin to shoveling through dragon dung for twelve hours straight. Well, I’m sure you’re aware that this year, the Boy who Lived is going to be attending Hogwarts. He’ll be in your year, Emma. Anyways, The Department of International Magical Cooperation has their mind set on putting a parade of sorts on at King’s Cross Station. They think it will enrich other countries’ opinions about the ability of the Ministry, whatever that means. Dumbledore will probably put a stop to it, though. You ask me, and that Potter kid will have it hard enough coping with the other students.” 

“That poor boy,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “You know, Emma, he never even knew he was wizard or famous. Dumbledore decreed it. I couldn’t imagine what that must be like. . .” 

“Potter?” Emma interjected between bites. “Harry Potter?” 

Bee giggled. 

“No, silly. Have you been living under a rock?” she said, blushing slightly. “His name’s Henry.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay. I know I might have said this was canon compliant, but, I mean, do you remember their Storybrooke selves either? It's kinda sad how Grumpy got literally all of the character development, and the other dwarves got none. Poor them.  
> Also, I think it's fitting that Ginny is Bashful. In the book, whenever she's around Harry, she's extremely shy and awkward, but we keep getting these hints that she's more outgoing and kind of a party animal, which makes it ironic. I mean, when she's a third year at the Yule Ball, she's already had more drama than most of the fourth years combined. So it's fun imagining her without Harry making her shy. Or maybe I just read to deeply into things.


	4. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

That night Emma hardly slept a wink. It wasn’t because she was sleeping in some unfamiliar room (she had done that plenty of times), or because of the ghoul upstairs. It was because she knew that her son was somewhere in the world. She knew he needed her. She would curl up under the covers, holding her wand in her hand, praying that she would get some sign of him. Unlike in Storybrooke, though, she didn’t seem to have much magical prowess. Emma couldn’t even get the spark thing that she saw at Ollivanders to happen again.

_I wonder if Ron was ever good at magic. . ._

She tried to remember a time in the book where he had actually completed some sort of magical feat. He was good at chess, but besides from that, _nothing. I can only do nothing_.

All in all, her time at the Weasley’s seemed to fly by. Sleepy and Sneezy’s room would occasionally make loud bangs in the dead of night, Doc could be completely dull, and Bee would have panic attacks if she ever lost track of her lip gloss. Still though, she had managed to somehow slip into a family that accepted her. Sure, Sleepy and Sneezy insisted on calling her Happy at every chance they got, but Emma could tell they just wanted her to feel included. 

There seemed to be endless work that needed to be done at the Burrow-- from degnoming the garden to sorting through the piles of junk in the garage. Mr. Weasley still insisted on calling it “materials”, which did nothing but further aggravate his wife. Every once in a while, Mrs. Weasley would send the twins, Bee, and Emma (Doc always insisted he had highly important work to do) down to get shopping from Ottery St. Catchpole. Ariel would ogle over all of the Muggle products, and the twins would play cards with the Muggles. Emma noted that they both had their wands tucked up their sleeves whenever they wandered off.

August rolled around quicker than Emma could have expected. When thick parchment envelopes arrived for Doc, Sleepy, Sneezy, and Emma, Ariel proceeded to sulk in her room for an entire hour. Emma, on the other hand, was genuinely surprised to have gotten one. Apparently Dumbledore did indeed know she existed. 

Mrs. Weasley explained to her, in rather hushed tones, that the allowance for orphaned witches and wizards wouldn’t accommodate the price for new materials. Instead, she gave Emma all of Doc’s old first year materials. This included a rather fat brown rat named Scabbers.

_Now, if my memory is correct, then that rat is a forty year old man. Not quite exactly the kind of company I tend to keep._

Figuring that the Weasleys would probably disown her for being a loon if she randomly killed their pet, she resolved to keeping him locked in his cage at all times. Every few days, she would poke in a couple stale pellets. Scabbers, for one, didn’t seem to care. He acted just like a rat. 

Emma would skim through a couple of pages in the dusty textbooks in her free time. There were so many terms and dates and spells that just flew over her head. Looking at her pile of schoolwork, it seemed like the novels sometimes forgot they were actually students-- there was no way a couple of preteens could save the world and learn all the proper ratio of horned slugs and porcupine quills that would result in a cure for boils, and not singed eyebrows. She hadn’t ever really been the best student in high school, so studying was never one of her skills. She might have been good at English and Science, but none of those skills would help her here. Back when she was a kid, Emma had dreamed of going to Hogwarts just because it meant she didn’t have to take any of her usual classes. Now, however, she saw the truth. There was more stuff packed into the thick textbooks than she could’ve imagined. If she had a normal school load on top of this, she was certain she would get absolutely no sleep whatsoever. 

Emma could spend hours a days holed up with _A History of Magic_. Frankly, most of the characters from medieval times reminded her of the stories from _Once Upon A Time_. Evil sorcerers doing all they could to destroy the happiness of the heroes and heroines of the time. No matter what, though, good would always succeed. The good witches and wizards would rize above the turmoil each time and save the day.

\---

Bee insisted that before the start of term, she had some training on a broom. The Weasleys’ had a couple of Cleansweeps they could use. Unlike Ariel, Emma wasn’t quite so sure about the safety of shooting through the air on nothing but a stick of wood. It seemed more like playing a game of Russian Roulette with the wind than an actual game. Sleepy and Sneezy were genuinely skilled-- they seemed completely attuned to each other’s thoughts. They would soar through the air, chucking fruit from the old apple tree with great precision. Bee was was quite good as well; her moves were more erratic and harder to predict.

Emma, on the other hand, found it hard to even kick off the ground. It was really starting to bug her-- no matter how hard she tried, at magic, studying, or flying, it was as though there was some invisible block in her mind. For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t even like she was struggling to believe in magic like she had in Storybrooke (the dishes washing themselves in the sink each day was plenty evidence for that). No, it felt more like she simply wasn’t meant to be good at anything. And that perhaps was the most frustrating.

September seemed to pop out of nowhere, and despite their knowledge of the looming date, no one seemed to have packed. Emma had barely managed to extricate an ancient suitcase from the attic without waking the ghoul. She couldn’t help giggling at the fact that the Weasleys kept calling them ‘trunks’. Britain itself wasn’t too different from New York and Maine: it only had more snow, tea, and ridiculous words. Bee had given her some of her spare muggle clothes to wear under the robes she had gotten adjusted from Madam Malkins, and Mrs. Weasley kept hurrying into her room with some random item and a story about how much she needed it in her school days. 

Mr. Weasley was waiting patiently outside next to the sky blue Ford Anglia. He seemed quite eager to begin explaining it to Emma, but with a reprimanding glare from his wife, simply helped load the trunks, and then slid into the driver’s seat. Bee grumpily got into the car, but got exponentially happier when Mrs. Weasley casually mentioned they might meet Henry Potter there.

As the ancient car pulled out of the driveway, scattering some of the slower chickens, Emma couldn’t help feeling the same. Obviously he didn’t remember her-- he would have made his presence known if he had. Plus, she was fairly certain they were destined to meet. The novels hadn’t really been far off yet.

\---

Despite the fact that the Weasleys must have gone to King’s Cross Station many times for all the years their children were in school, there were still situations that seemed to baffle them. When the ticket machine jammed for a second, Mr. Weasley tried to reason with it through conversation. Emma tried her best not to snort a little at every chance they gave her. Somehow though, they all managed to make their way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters .

Emma had considered subtly ‘accidentally’ losing Scabbers. There were just infinite escalators traveling away from them; it would be so easy to just drop him and say “whoops”.

Honestly, she didn’t even care if there was some resulting ripple in the timeline if the rat never got free. _Movies and fiction like to do that because it makes it so much easier to write. Seriously, every time travel movie should just consist of some guy stepping out of a time machine, putting a bullet in another guy, and then just stepping back in and leaving. Sure, it’d be simple and boring, but it would have no stupid plot contrivances._

Scabbers was proving difficult to dispose of, however. Bored, Bee had decided to Scabbers’ cage and was poking her fingers through the bars. Before Emma could think of something to say, they had arrived at the platform. This was the moment she was waiting for. She casually looked around the busy platform, trying to spot him. There was only fifteen minutes left to eleven, which was when the train departed, so tensions were starting to run high. 

“Now what’s the platform number, Bee?”

“Nine and Three Quarters, of course!” she piped in. “Mum, can’t I at least go onto the train or --”

“You’re not old enough yet, now be quiet. Doc, you first.”

Doc strode jauntily forward, grunted disapprovingly when his mother squeezed him around the middle, and trotted of towards the brick wall between Platform Nine and Ten. When his trunk hit it, rather than crashing, he slid straight through.

“I’ve always wondered,” Emma whispered to Bee. “Why it is that you’re supposed to run. I mean, if you’re trying to be inconspicuous, why act like a lunatic.”

“I think it’s for the sake of the students, right? Imagine if they had to walk the whole length of it. I reckon some of ‘em would just have a panic attack before they even hit the wall. Look at that crowd, don’t some of them just look queasy?”

Emma turned, saw a row of nervous looking kids of about her age standing next to _Henry_. Emma beamed. She couldn’t help it. Henry looked exactly as he had before, except for that his brown hair was a lot scruffier, and his bangs were long enough to cover his entire forehead. Bee was right though; he looked as though he might be sick.

“Who’s next?” Mrs. Weasley said as Sleepy and Sneezy’s retreating backs vanished through the wall. She crouched down to say goodbye to Emma.

“Excuse me,” a voice said hurriedly.

“Hello, dear,” she responded kindly. “First time at Hogwarts? Emma’s new too.”

“Yes,” said Henry. “The thing is-- the thing is, I don’t know how to--”

“How to get onto the platform?” she finished for him.

Henry nodded vigorously, looking very relieved.

“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between Platform Nine and Ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Emma.” 

Henry’s eyes met hers, and he smiled slightly. He heaved the trolley around and pointed it at the wall. Looking quite scared indeed, he broke into a run, going directly at the wall. He braced himself for a crash that didn’t come. He vanished.

Mrs. Weasley looked at Emma.

“Listen, dear, I know this might be too much to ask, but look after that boy alright? Poor sweetie, he didn’t even have anyone come to the Platform with him.”

“Of course, Mrs. Weasley.”

Emma hurriedly fastened Scabber’s cage onto her trolley, and faced the barrier. She started into a quick pace. Part of her mind was still worrying about the fact that she was going to smash like a pancake. She fused her eyelids shut tightly, and then, with a great whooshing sound, felt the atmosphere change. There was a hustling noise of hundreds of voices, interjected with the meows, croaks, and hoots of various kinds of animals. Emma opened her eyes.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight. A giant, scarlet engine was pouring out smoke into the high, vaulted ceiling of the station. The witches and wizards ahead of her were wearing an assortment of Hogwarts uniforms, Muggle wear, and multi-colored robes. A bunch of students were crowded around a spot. They seemed to be whispering something about a tarantula.

Sleepy and Sneezy were coming her way. They seemed extremely excited.

“Happy, do you remember that kid? Guess what? He’s Henry Potter!”

“Is he now?” Emma said sarcastically, then craned her neck to try and spot him. 

Mrs. Weasley came through the barrier. They hurried around to her.

“Now, now. I hope you don’t go around treating him like an animal in a zoo. Oh, that poor dear, he must be ever so nervous. . .”

Bee was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Oh mum, can’t I go on? Can’t I--”

“No,” she said flatly. “Now Emma sweetie, please be careful. Don’t do anything stupid, especially if it involves Sleepy and Sneezy.”

“Oi, Mum, we aren’t going to blow up the whole school.”

“Yeah, that’s scheduled a few years from now.”

“Boys,” Mrs. Weasley stated sternly. “I really hope you at least try to set a good example for Emma here.”

“There’s no need to worry, Mother. Emma has more responsible people to look up to.”

Doc had changed into his school robes. His polished Prefect badge shone from his chest. Mrs. Weasley bent down and started rubbing a spot on Emma’s face, despite her struggling. After what seemed like a long while, she straightened up. She turned around and began to tearfully hug her sons, and Emma, seizing her opportunity, kicked Scabber’s cage behind a pile of luggage.

Sleepy and Sneezy helped lift her trunk up onto the train, and then departed, saying something about a giant tarantula. Emma edged her way down the train, peering into the different compartments as she passed. The floor beneath her feet made a grunting sound, and the whole train roared into life. She needed to find a place soon, if she didn’t want to accidentally make into a wall. With the end of the train in sight, she found him.

Henry was sighting in an otherwise empty compartment. He was gazing out the window, and gently stroking a large, white owl that was perched on his arm.

Emma slid open the door.

“Anyone sitting there?” she said, pointing towards the empty seats. “Everywhere else is full.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized that there's not enough characters on Once Upon a Time to fit into all of Hogwarts, so uh be prepared for a lot a lot of OCs. I might have to dig up some really obscure fairy tales or something. . . Anyways, I hope you like it!


	5. The Train

“So you’re really Henry Potter? Have you really got the. . .you know?”

Henry pushed back his bangs to reveal a scar on his forehead, shaped like lightning.

“Do you remember him? You-Know-Who or anything?”

“No. . . Nothing but a flash of green light. . .”

Emma, realizing that she was probably making him uncomfortable, instead pulled a sandwich out her a pocket on her trunk.

“It’s corn beef. Want some?”

She knew this would cheer him up greatly. Based on their all of their time spent at Granny’s Diner in Storybrooke, she was well aware that the best way into his heart was through his stomach. He seemed skinnier than normal-- _Are those Dursleys starving him?!_

“Are all of your family wizards?” he asked through bites.

“Maybe? Well, I think most of the Weasleys are though. I stay with them. I, uh, haven’t really got any parents.”

Henry still looked rather worried, but he couldn’t conceal an empathetic smile. Realizing this probably looked weird though, he quickly clarified.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to smile,” he stuttered. “It’s just that I’ve never met my parents either.”

Emma felt something painful twist in her gut, but she played it off as hunger.

“So do you know any magic?” he asked. “I only found out I was a wizard a month ago. Hagrid -- she works on the school grounds-- came and told me. I’ve got so much to learn. I bet. . . I bet I’ll be the worst in the class.”

“Nah, plenty of people come from Muggle families, and they learn quick enough. Plus, you’ve already defeated You-Know-Who. I’m sure you’ll be good, right?”

“That’s what I mean! What if that’s the only thing I ever accomplish-- and I don’t even remember Voldemort!”

Emma looked at her son, now _that_ was like him. More humble than it was humanly possible. But still, he needed to be more confident.

“Sorry,” he added. “Hagrid said most people don’t like to say the name.”

“No,” she said grinning. “It’s really cool.”

\---

They spent most of the trainride comparing things that had found in their textbooks. Henry seemed most excited in flying, and nothing Emma said seemed to dissuade him. When he heard that she’d already been on a broom, he clung, fascinated, to every word she said. At around half past twelve, there was a clattering outside their compartment, and a dimpled witch slid open their door.

“Anything off the trolley, dear?” she asked.

Henry eagerly leapt to his feet, but Emma, feeling the lack of coins in her coin purse, blushed, and looked towards the window. A few minutes later, he came back with sweets laden in his arms. He dumped them in a pile on the seat next to him. 

“Do you want some?”

Emma was looking forward to this. She had spent her childhood dreaming about what these desserts would taste like. They started to try and guess what flavors the different Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans would be. One that Emma was fairly certain was peppermint turned out to be hot sauce. Henry looked quite concerned, but Emma just shrugged. He was particularly happy when he got one that was chocolate cinnamon flavored. It made Emma smile. Henry started peeling back the wrapper on a Chocolate Frog.

“I got a Dumbledore,” he said excitedly.

“Oh, I’ve been curious. What his first name?”

“Hmm, it doesn’t say. . . Look, he vanished!”

“Oh yeah, wizard photos do that. It’s kinda weird, but you’ll get used to it.”

Henry looked fascinatedly at the picture. He turned over the card and started to read the caption. Both he and Emma jumped as the door to their compartment opened up again. A pudgy boy wandered in.

“Sorry,” he said. “But have you seen a toad anywhere? I must have mixed up the cages!”

He lifted up a small cage with a large, sleeping, brown rat inside.

“Scabbers,” Emma answered in surprise. 

The rat didn’t make any motion as though it recognized her.

“He’s mine,” Emma said quickly. “ I, er, guess I must have lost him on the platform.”

The round-faced boy handed her the cage.

“I’m sure you’ll find him,” Henry said confidently, smiling.

The other boy sniffled slightly.

“Well, if you see him. . .”

He edged his way out.

“You know,” Emma said, picking up Scabbers. “I really wonder why anyone would ever get a toad. I suppose cats can be sweet, and owls are downright useful, but toads just sit there. They’re basically the most pointless pet. Besides a rat, of course.”

Henry was looking at the rat curiously.

"What does he do?" he asked.

“Absolutely nothing. If you’re lucky, you might even see him wake up.”

Emma withdrew her wand from a pocket in her jeans and stuck it through the bar, trying to get him to wake up.

The door opened again.

“Oh are you doing magic?” a British voice asked. “Let’s see it then.”

The speaker was a girl with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was already wearing her Hogwarts robes.

“And have you seen a toad? August’s lost one,” she continued.

“Er no. . . magic’s not really my thing,” Emma muttered.

“And we haven’t seen a toad either,” Henry added.

“Well I’ve heard about tracking spells, but most of them seem too complicated for first-years. Though I’ve tried a few simple spells and they’ve all worked fine for me. Nobody’s in my family’s magic-- it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of magic there is, I’ve heard-- I’ve learned all of our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it’ll be enough-- I’m Belle Granger, by the way, who are you?”

Emma grinned. It was such a signature line from the books. But. . .

_Belle? I don’t think there was anyone in Storybrooke corresponding to her, and plus she doesn’t even look familiar. . .Dammit, why does this crap have to get more confusing?!_

“My name’s Emma. . .Weasley,” she said, surprising even herself.

“Henry Potter,” said Henry.

“Are you really? I’ve read all about you. My father’s been letting me spend all afternoons at Flourish and Blotts-- wizarding books are just fascinating-- and you’re in at least a dozen books on the dark arts I’ve read. Anyways, do either of you know what house you’ll be in? Well I suppose no one really knows, but I hope I’m in Gryffindor; it sounds by far the best.”

“I bet you’ll get in,” Emma said, perhaps too quickly.

“What are all the houses anyways?” asked Henry.

Emma delighted in explaining everything. Eventually, Belle left, saying something about needing to study more. Henry seemed gripped on every word. It was almost like they were back at that first night in New York, when she was telling him about the city. _Memories. . ._ Before they could get to deep into Quidditch strategies, the door snapped open for the third time. Three figures came in. Two of them were surly-looking, rather fat boys who were glaring menacingly in Henry’s direction. And the last one, wearing an expensive black leather jacket and emerald earrings, was _Regina_.

Emma got to her feet at once and glowered at her. Blood boiled in her skin. Meanwhile, Henry seemed to sink further into the back of his seat.

“Well, well, well . . . It’s true. Henry Potter is on the train. So it’s you?” she asked. Her tone was more drawling and bored than she remembered-- it was almost as though she didn’t even care what they thought about her.

“Yeah,” Henry said meekly.

“Oh. Crabbe, Goyle, say hi.”

They grunted.

“Get the fuck out of here, Regina.” Emma stated calmly.

A bit of her was pleased that the kid version of Regina was shocked by this, even though she recovered quickly.

“Well, I’ve heard of you. Some random orphan the Weasleys took in. You know the Ministry pays them to foster, right? If not, they wouldn’t even want you around.”

“Better than being a snotty bitch.”

Regina turned to Henry. Emma attempted to stop herself from launching at her.

“Potter, you’ll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others. I can help you there.”

She stuck out her hand.

“I’m pretty sure he has eyes,” Emma spat.

“Uh. . .Yeah” Henry mumbled. Then, with a bit more courage. “I can tell for myself, thanks.”

She turned around on her heels ( _pretentious much?_ ) and saw the pile of candy.

“Eat up, boys. We’re leaving.”

Crabbe stuck his fat fist into the stack. Scabbers, however, was still in his cage. Guffawing at his prize, he followed Regina out.

“That was. . .wow,” Henry looked as though he had just seen a scary movie for the first time. He turned towards Emma as though he had seen her in a new light.

“You’re cool!” he said with amazement.

“Damn right, kid” she answered.

“Um, aren’t we the same age?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get that at this point the plot hasn't really diverged yet. . . I promise it will! sorry. At this point, I don't really want to give anyone too much agency, or else you might find that you'll get annoyed later on if no one does anything. Anyways sorry if you think this is repetitive. I'll try to post again soon, I realized I haven't in a couple days.


	6. The Sorting Hat

The rest of the train ride passed with little occurrence, unless you counted Henry’s first encounter with a couple of Filibuster Fireworks that Sleepy and Sneezy had graciously donated to Emma. Belle popped back in occasionally, either asking about the toad or scolding them for not putting their school robes on yet. When night fell, they heeded her advice, clumsily pulled their robes over their heads, and prepared to depart from their compartment. They filed into the corridor to be met with the faces of other nervous firstyears. 

“Firstyears! Come this way,” a woman’s voice called sweetly.

As they meandered over, Snow gave Henry a friendly smile. She acknowledged Emma’s presence too, which made part of her quite happy indeed. Belle sped up to them.

“I’ve read about this! It’s Hogwarts tradition to have the first years cross the lake in boats, perhaps to symbolize the ascension of knowledge, but then again, _Hogwarts: A History_ is not always accurate. I think it might just be for us to tour the cas--”

“Oh be quiet, Granger” Regina said, climbing off the train. “I don’t want your stammering to be drilled into my brain,”

Belle ignored them and went off towards August.

“No arguing, please,” Snow called. “It’s quite rude. Now, let’s see. Three or four to a boat, and don’t go sticking your heads in the lake! It’s still surprises me I have to say that, but, oh well.”

The kids slowly filtered into the row of boats. Emma, Henry, Belle, and August managed to get one for themselves. Before long, they had departed the dock, and Emma got a full view of Hogwarts for the first time. It was absolutely beautiful and beyond any of her expectations. The black lake was glassy and reflecting the moss covered walls of the castle walls. Enormous turrets reached far above the castle and touched the twinkling sky. The stone walls looked ancient, but stood with a powerful sense of grandeur and security. Emma could hear the murmurs of awe from the other kids as they moved further towards the castle. Belle seemed to be incessantly whispering any facts that popped into her head to August. 

The boats slowly arrived at steep stone steps that led to a huge, oak front door. The students slipped and skidded their way up, until finally, upon reaching the highest step, the great doors swung open and the kids were bathed in warm candlelight. Taking nervous steps, the firstyears edged inside. A few large paintings looked curiously at them. Henry was shivering next to her.

“What do you think they’re gonna make us do?” he said through chattering teeth.

The doors to the Great Hall opened slowly, and they stepped inside. The older students were looking curiously at them; some were supportively grinning, and others, most of whom were seated at a single table raised their eyebrows and looked condescendingly at them. Emma tried to remember everything she’d read about the Sorting Ceremony so that she could calm Henry down. More people, besides him, started listening in, trying to get a clue. While she spoke, Emma looked up to the teachers table, looking for some familiar face. 

Behind a large golden phoenix was a man in lavender robes, with a beard longer than Emma thought physically possible. As far as Emma knew, there was no one who looked quite like this in Storybrooke. She supposed that there were people she hadn’t met in her time there, but surely someone as significant as Dumbledore would have popped up at some point _Maybe he’s someone else completely?_

To his left, there was an old witch with a huge tight bun. She was wearing rather severe looking, square glasses, and was talking to thin air next to her. _McGonagall, but why’s she acting weird?_

No. . .There was definitely a hint of green that was hovering on a stack of books in the chair besides her. If Emma squinted, it looked rather. . .insect-like? 

 

There was a plump witch who was beaming merrily around at her colleagues. She had a shock of curly gray hair that flew out in every direction. _Sprout then I guess. Who else is there at Hogwarts?_

Then she saw it. The turbaned skull that concealed what she knew was Lord Voldemort. Sound seemed to drain in the room, but no one else seemed to notice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some concerned face looking at her. He turned, and she saw the face of Quirrell for the first time. Amongst the teachers, he didn’t even stand out. He was smiling jovially, and he was nodding along conversationally with the person he was talking to.

Emma actually almost clasped her hands to her mouth as her eyes shifted. The man didn’t even look human. His skin was a scaly, reptile-like grey, and his hair looked oily and matted. She shivered. He did look oddly familiar though. . .

“Emma, are you alright? They’ve starting the sorting.”

Belle too was looking at her with concern. Emma realized that Henry had been poking her arm, trying to get her attention for the entirety of the last minute.

“What? Yeah. . .yeah sorry. Let’s just be quiet.”

A few kids had already wandered up to the teacher’s table, sat on the stool, heard their house, and scurried off in fright. 

_I should probably be making notes on this or something._

“Brown, Aurora,” the woman with the tight bun called, her voice magically magnified.

A brown-haired girl hastily scampered between the long house tables and sped towards a stool on which sat a rather battered looking hat. She shoved it on her head, and then, the hat opened its mouth and--

“Gryffindor!” it called.

The were a chorus of whoops and cheers echoed from the Gryffindor table as she became the one to be sorted into their house. Emma saw Doc puff out his chest to show his badge and gestured at her to join him.

Bulstrode, Cruella became the first Slytherin. Though her hair was a solid black, she already had a characteristic smirk on her face. Branching out past the classic fairy tales, huh? God I’ll have to keep a freaking notebook just full of everyone’s alter ego. 

Finch-Fletchley, Hansel and Finnigan, Philip were sorted into Hufflepuff and Gryffindor respectively. Emma was pleased to see that they both looked extremely relieved as they hopped of the stool. Sure, she knew what was going to happen, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous. 

“Granger, Belle”

Emma heard a squeak of nervousness, and the bush of hair next to her vanished and headed towards the stool. After a moment it said “Gryffindor!” and Belle, beaming, went to find a seat. A few moments later, the hat cried out “Longbottom, Pinocchio”, and August (blushing and mumbling something about silly names in the family) stepped forwards and put on the hat. He quickly followed Belle to the Gryffindor table.

All in all, the sorting was kinda boring; most of the names she heard were entirely unfamiliar, and most of the faces indistinguishable from the rest of her nervous peers. Emma felt herself practically falling asleep until “Malfoy, Regina”.

Regina strode forth from the the mob of firstyears, sat on the stool, and placed the hat on her head. There was a palpable silence in the room. Minutes seemed to tick by. Emma wondered whether there was some precautions in place, should the hat never choose a house. But as no one seemed to be doing anything, they must’ve known the hat would finish at some point. Eventually, as expected, the hat yelled out “Slytherin!” and Regina, slightly pink in the face, sashayed off.

As the names slowly got closer to P, he got to more extreme shades of green. When the witch, who Emma realized must have been McGonagall, yelled out “Potter, Henry”, he wandering forward, trembling.

“It’ll be fine,” Emma whispered to him as he passed.

Emma expected the wait this time, but she wished it’d be over so that Henry wouldn’t have to deal with the stress. But eventually, it called “Gryffindor!” and the Great Hall erupted into cheers. For a moment, Emma had actually forgotten that he was famous in this world. He wandered off to join Sleepy and Sneezy, and the applause eventually died down.

_Why did the Weasleys have to have a name that started with a W?_

And then finally:

“Weasley, Emma”

She gathered her robes and started pacing towards the stool. She turned around and sat, trying to conceal a glare of annoyance (most of the students had already picked up their knives and forks, eager for the sorting to end). _Really guys?_

Emma pulled the hat over her head. It fell below her eyes.

_Hmm. . . This is new. . . You’re not a child._ the hat said matter of factly. 

_Perceptive. Now can you help me or not? Do you know why I’m here?_

_Headstrong, eh? You will make a good Gryffindor, but I do more here than sort the students. . . Let’s see. . . You may find the answers to the queries you seek, though not where you’ll expect. I think . . ._

_Think? Think what? Your voice is quiet._

It was almost like the fabric had tightened around her ears, muffling all sound. 

_Hello!?_

Nothing.

“Gryffindor!”

McGonagall lifted the hat off her head. The brightness of the candlelight making her blink, Emma edged off in the direction of the other Weasleys. Once she sat down, she began assessing everyone at the High Table. No one was acting as though anything strange had happened. The witch with the round face and explosive hair was nodding of softly. Snow was still beaming kindly as the kids wandered up. The weird, scaly one had crossed his fingers and was impatiently tapping his boot on the stone floor. 

Even Quirrell didn’t seem any different, but then again, he was supposedly a good actor.

\---

As the sorting ended, Dumbledore got to his feet. Emma still couldn’t see anything familiar about him.

“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, a couple words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddball! Tweak!”

Before the other firstyears had expressed their shock, Emma had a mountain of mashed potatoes shoved in her face.

_It’s not like humans are meant to survive on chocolate and jelly beans all day, is it?_

“Straight to the food eh? I approve of your choices, Happy.”

Sneezy was gesturing towards her already full plate. Doc was carefully laddeling some stew onto his plate. 

“Well, Emma, must I say congratulations on becoming a Gryffindor, but I can’t deny I expected it from you. Anyhow, if you are ever in need of any assistance with your studies or magic in general, as the Prefect of your house, I would be glad to help. By the way, the password for the portrait this week is Fortuna Major. It’s my duty to inform all the first years.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“A Prefect? I’ve read all about them,” Belle said, siding over to them. “Tell me, do you have any recommendations for what area of study to focus on? I’ve already started looking up the options one can take in the third year, but, in your opinion, how would it be best to prepare now for the new classes?”

They embarked into a long chain of discussion about the merits of things like Astronomy. Emma turned away. Henry wasn’t sitting far off. He was enthusiastically talking about something with August, Phillip, and some African American boy she hadn’t caught the name of. They looked like they were having fun. Deciding that she ought not to interrupt their socializing, she resigned herself to simply eating as much as she could muster (it was all far better tasting than anything she’d ever had), and trying not to look too inelegant laughing along to all of Sleepy and Sneezy’s jokes.

\---

The feast, to most of the students’ delight, was composed of multiple courses, and even Regina couldn’t help concealing a grin when a mountain of ice cream, taller than her, popped out of nowhere onto the table. But time went on, and as some of the firstyears started to become droopy-eyed, Dumbledore got up and sent them all off to bed.

Emma, however, had different plans.

“Where are you going!?” Belle hissed to her when the pack of students reached the landing of a great marble staircase. 

Emma had a feeling that the Fat Lady’s portrait was located somewhere up there, but she had different plans for the night. She was not going to just go to sleep like the student, no-- she was going to find Dumbledore. Why? Because there is literally the antagonist of this whole mess right here. How the hell does no one here realize it?!?

“Just havin’ a look around,” she said noncommittally.

“You are gonna get in so much trouble. . .” August nervously added.

Henry caught up to them.

“What are we doing?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Belle said seriously. “Now let's get off to bed. Come on, Doc’s coming over. He’ll start to notice something’s up.”

She and August followed the pack.

“You should go with them, Henry.” Emma said.

He blushed; it was clear that he wanted to stay with her, but he was still to scared of breaking the rules.

“Really, I just forgot my watch at the table. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Thanks. . .” he muttered and followed the troup.

Emma doubled back into the Great Hall. The teachers had already cleared out. That was going to make this a lot longer. _Maybe they go off to the teachers’ lounge or something?_

It wasn’t until this point that Emma realized that she really didn’t know her way around much of the castle-- reading about it was one thing, but the actual layout was much vaster. It didn’t bug her though; all she had to do was avoid one cat and one man in a castle the size of a small village. _Bit overrated if you ask me._

She slowly edged out of the room. The landing was completely empty now. Everyone must have been eager to get some sleep. Before Emma could put even one foot on the stairs, there was a muffled laugh from above. Emma leapt into a broom closet that was obscured by a large curtain.

“--take too long, and’ll keep the party going til morning--”

Snorting, Emma stepped out of the closet, and looked at the Weasley twins. They were headed off in the direction of the kitchens.

“Really guys? Some of those kids look like they haven’t slept in week.”

“You’re up.”

“Doesn’t matter. So do either of you know where Dumbledore’s office is? I think it’s by a gold phoenix or something.” 

They looked at her skeptically.

“I’m not trying to pull a prank on him! I just need to give him some valuable information,”

“Would it happen to be about us?”

“Ha. Don’t get full of yourselves.”

“Well I suppose we can give you a few pointers, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! That chapter was longer than normal. Let's see...  
> Fyi, just right off the bat, there won't be any weird age gap things so uhh feel free to wait a while? (I'm not saying relationships won't happen though :3)  
> Also I'm sorry if this chapter was really boring-- there's not much difference I can make with a basic pattern of name to house repeated a lot of times.  
> I'll find some more names for characters though, so be prepared some obscure shit (sorry)  
> Oh and as usual, thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on posting weekly or something, please let me know if you have any suggestions! This is actually my first time posting to the archive, so any comments would be appreciated :)


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